


Joyeux Noël

by Hopeless_Hogwartian394



Series: A Series of Fur-tunate Events [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (shut up guys the angst is only slight), Christmas fic, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Marichat, a gift for the HBS, adriens shitty family, bonus points if you know what book chat is reading, cutes, how does she live, i catually cannot comprehend this, its unavoidable, marinette has no bookcase in her room, necessitates the angst, slight angst, slight romantic subtext, the heathen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeless_Hogwartian394/pseuds/Hopeless_Hogwartian394
Summary: Summary: Marichat friendship, fluff, mild angst, and semi-romantic subtext, A sequel to my fic ‘Bon Anniversaire’I hope everyone has a Marinette they can talk to and vent to, platonic, whatever the fuck these two are, or otherwise. And if you don’t, that you find one. Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittytish101) for betaing and catching my typos and yelling about marichat on her [tumblr](https://kittytish101.tumblr.com)

Three months on, and it’s become normal for Chat to drop by her balcony late at night. Never past midnight and only when all the lights except hers are dark does he land with a gentle thump on her balcony and tap lightly at her skylight. Sometimes she goes outside to meet him and other times she lets him in instead, especially as the cold wetness of winter makes it’s presence felt.

As November fades into December, Chat starts turning up more and more. He seems only to want company and someone to talk to, and that, Marinette is happy to provide. 

It is lucky that he hasn’t yet visited while she’s out as Ladybug, for which Marinette is particularly thankful. She doesn’t want to let her partner down or disappoint him, and Chat, on the nights he comes knocking, often looks lonely. Marinette doesn’t want to break him or their friendship. 

It’s on a night much like the others before it that Marinette and Chat are both in her room, Chat sprawled in a tangle of black-clad catboy on her chaise and thumbing through a book he brought with him, and helping Marinette with her homework. Turns out Chat’s pretty good academically, especially literature and physics, which are Marinette’s weak points. 

Chat isn’t talking much, apart from responding to the questions about her homework that Marinette directs at him. His fake ears are drooping slightly, and it’s worrying her that he isn’t laughing at his book or trying to distract her from working like he normally does. 

Marinette sets her pen down. Homework can easily wait a little. Her kitty can’t.  
“Are you okay, Chat?" 

Chat doesn’t look up from his book, as he nods distractedly. "I’m fine, Marinette _,_ really.” Despite this, his face remains impassive as he reads on, the crease between his brows the only expression on it. 

It is the work of a moment to spin out of her chair and seat herself down next to Chat, causing him to shift upright into a less spine twisting position to avoid being sat on. “You say that but I like to think that I know you well enough by now to know that you aren’t as fine as you are usually." 

A smirk makes a momentary guest appearance on his face. "You think I’m fine?” The combination of smirk and tone leave Marinette no doubt as to exactly what he meant by that one. 

She lifts the arm not currently inching towards him and bops him on the nose. He wriggles all over and bats at her hand. “That’s _not_ what i meant and you know it, you incorrigible flirt.” She tries for a stern tone, but can’t help the corners of her mouth turning up a little. “What I was _trying_ to say is, if you ever need to talk about _anything,_ I am always happy to listen. You don’t have to, I don’t want to pressure you into telling my anything, but I’m your friend, okay?” The hand that has been slowly edging towards Chat finally bumps against his knuckles, and when he doesn’t shy away from the contact, Marinette slips her hand to his back and runs it up his spine to bury her fingers in the barely controlled explosion that is his hair. “Silly kitty,” she says as she runs her fingers through his hair, “I’m always going to be here for you, and that’s a promise."   

The room falls silent but for the soft rumble of Chat’s gentle purring. Encouraged by his ready acceptance of affection, Marinette takes advantage and tucks herself in next to him, draping his arm over her shoulder and curling slightly into his side. Chat’s entire torso is vibrating slightly, and Marinette wonders if he’d let her lay his head in her lap to ease the awkward angle of her arm. She doesn’t get the chance to ask though, as Chat shifts slightly and haltingly begins to speak, the skritching of her fingers pausing as he talks. 

"It’s my mother. She disappeared a while back, and that makes this year my first Christmas without her.” His words are coming faster now, as he becomes more sure of where he is taking this. “She was _incredible,_ and Christmas was basically  her favourite time of the year. My dad was better when she was around, mellower I suppose, and more fun. I miss her _so damn much,_ every single day and it just hit me, that she’s not here to pull it all together and,” words are pouring out of him now, the contents of a dam that has broken somewhere inside him running together in the outpour of emotions and hurt, “and I don’t know how to fix it, or even if I can. 

My father basically ignores me, and I’m not really going to talk to my friends about this stuff and its not like _Ladybug_ wants to hear about my shitstorm of a home life and I don’t want to burden her with it anyway, and it feels sometimes like I’m useless, nothing more than a pretty face and I just…" 

He trails off frustratedly, and Marinette sits quietly for a moment, sorting through his words and thinking over what to say. She cant fuck this up for Chat, and she is terrified of saying the wrong thing. "I… I don’t think that anything I could possibly say or do would really help, but Chat, minou, you’re my friend. I’m always here for you, and I care so much for you and about you and I want to help in any way I possibly can, and anyone who dares call themselves your friend should feel the same way and if not they can answer to me.” Her fists are balling at the thought of someone treating her kitty badly in any way. “And as for Ladybug, she’s your partner, right?” He nods, seemingly taken aback at the fierceness of her tone. “You two are a team and I know for a fact that Ladybug couldn’t do half the things she does without you, minou. She needs you, and she cares about you so so much. If you need to talk, I’m positive she would listen if you needed her to, and I reckon she’d be glad you trust her enough to share this with her. 

And another thing, you are not useless, you are not _just_ a pretty face. You are amazing and clever and brave and a wonderful person and anyone who disagrees with me can shove it up their ass.” 

Chat nods slowly, absorbing her forceful outburst. He seems a little stunned, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. A hand reaches up and musses his hair, taking it from its barely controlled state to resembling an exploded hay bale. “Princess… I…” His inability to get a full sentence going is endearing, and Marinette, spurred by her instinctive need to comfort her imperfect, messy pile of boy in a catsuit, reaches for him and twists her arms around him, forearms firm around his shoulder blades and his chest tight against her own. It isn’t perfect, Chat surprised and made awkward by the unexpected contact, and their awkward positioning complicating everything, but, after the initial moment of surprise, Chat turns and leans into the hug, his own arms coming up along her back, clawed fingers brushing against her hair. 

The pair of them stay like that for minutes that stretch quietly and curiously peacefully. It is Chat who pulls away first, reluctant hands drifting down her back and along her arms as he moves back. His book lies forgotten next to him, and Marinette, searching for a way to help push away his downtrodden demeanour, alights upon it. She picks it up gently, careful not to maul the pages or lose Chat’s place. “May I?” He nods. 

She flips it open to where Chat had left off and peruses the text. Her English isn’t the best, and of course her fucking _nerd_ of a partner reads books in a foreign language for fun. She understands enough to muddle through though, so she curls up next to him and takes a breath to begin. 

“'We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today,’ she said…” 

* * *

Marinette reads until she feel’s Chat’s head grow heavy on her shoulder and her own eyes droop. Her throat is dry from reading aloud, and her mind is sluggish. She is trapped under the weight of her partner, and she is warm under the blanket that had made its way around their shoulders at some point, and so, she sets the book in her hands aside, smoothing the brightly coloured cover and slipping a scrap of cloth to mark her space between the pages. She curls into Chat’s side and falls asleep with ease, dreaming of ways to make this coming Christmas not so achingly dreary and joyless for this precious boy asleep by her side.

* * *

A week later and she has hit upon the perfect idea. It’s not a grand and expensive gesture, but she _knows_ her kitty and how much of a sentimental sap he is. And so, it is with only the slightest twinge of nervousness that she waits up on her bed, lamp glowing gently behind her and gaze fixed on her skylight. Chat hasn’t come by since he woke her up with his embarrassed sputtering and spring out her window without his book, but Marinette is certain he will drop by on Christmas Eve, if only to wish his friend a Merry Christmas. 

The skittering of claws on glass proves her right, and she lets him in happily. He’s fidgety, and one hand grips a sombrely wrapped parcel. Electing to not wait for him to attempt to herd his words into making sense, Marinette thrusts out her present. “Merry Christmas, minou,” she declares, motioning at him with the parcel. “For you.” Her ridiculous catboy stares at her, struck dumb, and takes the gift with a hand that shakes slightly from sheer joy and disbelief. His nervous expression has partially morphed into a happy grin, giving him a slightly lopsided look. 

The gift he has brought is waved in her face, and she takes it. It’s rectangular and neatly wrapped, her name prominently written in Sharpie on the surface of the silvery grey paper, embossed faintly with a snowflake pattern. “Merry Christmas to you too Marinette, and, thank you,” he says, and has sprung out the hatch and is leaping away before she can get a word of thanks out in return.

She watches him go fondly, before turning her attention to her gift. The paper, once torn away, reveals that her utter _dork_ of a kitten has gotten her the fucking french version of the book she read to him a week ago. In hardcover collectors edition, no less, the little _shit_. 


End file.
